The Proper Equipment

Paul Verlaine walked over to his Jeep and came back with a scraping tool.

That's not a knife, said Arthur, looking at the scraping tool.

No, but this is! said Paul, whipping out a knife that had been concealed in his pocket.

Goody! said Lavender. Give it to Arthur.

Shall I give it to you, Arthur?  asked Paul, sharply. Do you want it?

He thrust the pointy end of the knife towards Arthur.

No, said Arthur. Give me the scraping tool.

He took the scraping tool and began scraping the hard red dirt.

You'll find nothing, said Paul. Like me.

Use your knife said Lavender. You'll find something. I see the future. I know.

Do you see Arthur's future? asked Paul.

He'll find a zircon, said Lavender.

I see Arthur's future, said Paul Verlaine darkly.

No you don't, said Arthur.

Have you changed? asked Paul. Tell me how.

I don't know how, said Arthur. It isn't like me to help people. Natural historians, stones, lobsters. They don't need help. I slope off but I don't get away. Look at me now. Here I am scraping dirt in the outback, when I'm meant to be learning to surf. Someone's rewriting my life.

Not necessarily, said Paul. Come back to me.

No, said Arthur. We're finished. I'm not writing poems any more.

I am, said Paul. Arthur, O Arthur.....

That's not very good, said Arthur.

I know that, said Paul. What's going to happen to me?

You'll find a zircon, said Lavender.

Arthur will find a zircon, said Paul.

Two zircons, said Lavender. One zircon each. Now dig!

Paul and Arthur bent over and scratched in the dirt.

You'll never find anything digging like that! said a voice, behind them. You need to dig down to the washline!
And you don't have a Willoughby! Geez!